


Care for You

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Sickfic, a bit of making out, and gwendolyn is Soft, mildred is Soft, they're both Soft and just want to love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26854588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Mildred doesn't get sick. Except she can still catch the common cold, and it's very annoying for her when she does. Gwendolyn might enjoy it a little more.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 32
Kudos: 168





	Care for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkwordytome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkwordytome/gifts).



> A sickfic, requested by talkwordytome, where poor Millie has the sniffles. 
> 
> (Folks, tequila does not help your brain be more wordy. Headaches don't either.) 
> 
> Apologies for any typos!

It starts with a sneeze. 

“Bless you,” Gwendolyn says automatically. 

“Thank you.”

The sun is warm, out in their little back terrace. Mildred’s hand in hers is warm, too. The paper in her other hand is warming as they sit, Mildred watching the sky, Gwendolyn reading. 

She even gives Gwendolyn a few moments before she starts to ask, “Anythi— _achoo!_ "

“Bless you,” Gwendolyn says, biting back a chuckle. “You alright there?”

“Allergies,” Mildred waves off, rubbing at her nose with her index finger. “I’m sure it’s just allergies.” 

It’s not just allergies, though— she keeps sneezing throughout the day, and at some point, her nose stops up altogether. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Gwendolyn asks over dinner, partially because Mildred has touched barely anything on her plate. 

Mildred shakes her head. “I think I’ve just ingested too much phlegm.” She takes a deep breath and yawns, “I’m sure I’ll be better in the morning.” 

But by morning she isn’t better; she’s objectively worse, nose completely stopped up, a tickle in the back of her throat causing a cough, nausea rumbling around her stomach. When Gwendolyn reaches to touch her forehead, she’s burning up. 

“Oh, Mildred,” Gwendolyn murmurs. 

“I’m fine,” Mildred murmurs, swinging her legs off the bed, “it’s nothing, just a cold.” 

“You should rest anyways,” Gwendolyn says. Mildred huffs and stands. 

And promptly sways where she’s standing.

“Okay, okay,” Gwendolyn murmurs, lurching across the bed and tugging Mildred back towards it. “You need to lay back down.” 

Mildred groans. “I do not,” she insists. “We need to do laundry, and the apartment is due for a clean—“

“All of which I can do, or it can wait,” Gwendolyn insists, her arms around Mildred’s shoulders as she leans back. Mildred shifts around on top of Gwendolyn. “Do I need to pin you down?” 

“Let me up so I can work,” Mildred mutters.

“Hmmm.” Gwendolyn pretends to consider it for a moment. “No.”

“Gwendolyn!” 

Gwendolyn smiles, nuzzling into Mildred’s hair and pressing a kiss to her head before turning them both over. “You’re going to lie right here and rest. I’m going to bring you some tea.”

Mildred groans into her pillow out of frustration. Gwendolyn leans down, presses a kiss to the nape of her neck. It’s chilly— when she climbs out of bed, she tucks the blankets up around Mildred’s shoulders. “Stay here, sweetheart,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Mildred’s temple. 

Mildred stays put, but the grumpiness from it radiates off her. Gwendolyn smiles. The younger woman is so used to caring for others, doing everything that needs to be done, not caring one whit for herself. She deserves to be cared for, even if it’s only one day.

Even if she has to hold Mildred down to do it. 

She hums a little as she prepares some tea for the both of them. She hears a small grunt of amusement from Mildred and rolls her eyes— she knows her voice isn’t great, it’s marred by age and damage and not always hearing notes correctly. But it makes her smile, too, that Mildred is so amused by her. She has to cross the apartment to find the aspirin and feels Mildred’s eyes watching her. 

“Here,” she says finally, bringing both the mug of tea and the aspirin to Mildred. The nurse sits up and takes both. 

“Thank you,” she says, and she does sound grateful. 

Gwendolyn smiles, sits down on the bed facing her, leaning across her legs and bracing her arm next to Mildred’s hip. She watches Mildred sip at the tea, slowly, and brushes her hair back behind your ears. 

Mildred shoots her a soft smile— it wavers a bit, but it reaches her eyes and makes them sparkle. 

“Alright?” Gwendolyn asks. 

Mildred nods, takes another sip of tea. “Yes, perfectly alright.” She sets the mug down and places one hand on Gwendolyn’s thigh, the other on Gwendolyn’s hand by her hip. 

“Which is why you’re going to let me get up and do laundry,” Mildred says, trying to push her way out of the cage of Gwendolyn’s arms. 

Gwendolyn’s hand is on her chest in an instant. “I will do no such thing, my dear,” she half-chuckles. “You are sick, and you need rest.” 

Mildred sits back and huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I am not a child. I am perfectly able to work through a little sniffle.”

“I know you are,” Gwendolyn assures her, reaching forward and rubbing her hands up and down Mildred’s arms. “But you don’t _have_ to. And it’s not a little sniffle, sweetheart, you look miserable.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Mildred mumbles. She picks up the tea mug and takes a sip, somehow spiteful about it.

Gwendolyn sighs. “You don’t feel good, darling. And you’ve taken such good care of me,” she reminds Mildred, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me take care of you. Let me pamper you.” 

Mildred looks uncomfortable. She shifts in the bed, looks down, glances up at Gwendolyn, glances away. 

“What?” Gwendolyn asks. 

“I— I don’t deserve that,” Mildred says quietly. 

“Oh, _Mildred_ ,” Gwendolyn breathes. “Sweetheart, that’s not true.” She scoots closer, frames Mildred’s face in her hands. “You take such good care of me, my darling girl. Who was there every time I was sick from the chemotherapy, hmm?” She ducks her head, forcing Mildred to look in her eyes. “Who has cooked me every dinner and lunch and breakfast I can stomach? Who checks to make sure I take my vitamins? Who lights my cigarettes for me, pulls the sheets from the bed, washes the dishes from our meals?” 

Mildred bites her lip and sniffles. Gwendolyn isn’t sure whether it’s from the emotions or the cold. 

“Hmmm? Who?” Gwendolyn lifts Mildred’s chin with her index finger. 

“Me.” 

“Mhm. Now let me show you a fraction of that care.” 

Mildred chews on that lower lip, but she ends up exhaling and leaning back against the headboard of the bed. 

“That’s my girl,” Gwendolyn murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now drink up that tea. Shall I read to you?” 

Mildred does pick up the tea, and hums an answer. Gwendolyn moves to the door of their apartment, retrieving the morning paper that had been dropped there. “Let’s see…” 

She reads the paper as she moves around the apartment, tidying from the week that’s passed. She means to pass it over to Mildred to read while she switches to the dishes, but when she looks up, Mildred is asleep again. 

God, she’s so gone on this girl.

Mildred, she thinks, looks like an angel. Her hair is all splayed out behind her, blanket tucked under her arm, her hands pulled in front of her face like a shield. She’s on her side, and the stuffy quality of her nose is making her snore slightly. But looking at her makes Gwendolyn’s chest balloon until she feels her ribs won’t be able to contain her. She makes Gwendolyn feel grounded, feel safe, feel needed and loved and full. 

She smiles. It’s all she has the power to do. 

By the time Mildred wakes from her little nap, Gwendolyn has washed the dishes, made soup, and washed the soup-related dishes. She’s set their dirty clothes to soak, too, but that’s not something she really needs to worry about. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmurs, bringing a still-hot bowl of soup over to Mildred. The younger woman blinks, not quite awake enough to form words, but accepts the bowl of soup. “Careful, now, still hot.”

Mildred hums, and her voice is still crackly. But she blows carefully on the soup and sips it. “Oh,” Mildred rasps, “that’s nice.”

Gwendolyn smiles and pats her thigh gently. She moves away, goes to take care of the laundry. “Where are you going?” Mildred asks. 

“Laundry, dear,” Gwendolyn calls back. 

There’s a moment of silence. “Can you… can you talk to me?”

Gwendolyn feels something in her chest shudder, happiness bubbling forward. “Of course. Did you hear the story about the fair in Idaho?”

“No, I think I fell asleep…”

By the time she’s finished telling the story, she’s finished with the laundry, piling it into a basket to take out to dry. She turns around and Mildred is standing, holding an empty bowl. 

“I’m still a little dizzy,” Mildred admits, "but I’d like to go outside.”

Gwendolyn grins at her. “Of course, sweetness.”

Outside, Mildred ends up in her lap. Her head rests on Gwendolyn’s, and her arms lay wrapped around Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “Why do you call me all those names?” she asks, almost out of the blue. 

Gwendolyn tilts her head, effectively nuzzling Mildred. “What names?” 

“Sweeness, dear, darling, sweetheart…”

“Mmm,” Gwendolyn smiles, takes one of Mildred’s hands from her shoulders and kisses her knuckles. “Because you are those things. You’re my dear, my darling one, my sweetheart…” Mildred shifts a little uncomfortably. “You’re the sweetness in my life.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Mildred murmurs, but Gwendolyn can feel her lips against her skin, and the younger woman is smiling. 

“Only for you,” Gwendolyn says, turning her head, pressing a kiss to Mildred’s neck. 

Eventually, Mildred gets hungry. She tries to make herself a sandwich— bologna, which still grosses Gwendolyn out— but the moment she smells the meat, she closes the fridge. 

“I think I’m having soup for dinner,” she says grimly, and Gwendolyn fights down a grin at it. 

“Soup, coming right up,” Gwendolyn says brightly. She fixes a bowl for them both, adds in some chicken this time. “Eat up,” she says as she deposits it in front of Mildred at their little kitchen table. “Don’t avoid the chicken, you’ll need the protein.” 

Mildred rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “It’s a cold, not some terrible illness.” Gwendolyn sits in front of her, squeezes her hand with a smile. 

“Eat up.” 

They eat mostly in silence, Gwendolyn watching Mildred. Now that the day’s almost done, she thinks Mildred actually looks a good deal better. She’s not so pale. She sniffles less often and her cough is almost gone. And she finishes her soup, which is encouraging. 

“I have to admit, I’m still tired,” Mildred says when she’s finished. But she takes her dish to the sink herself, fills it with water to soak. 

“Leave it, I’ll wash it,” Gwendolyn says without thinking, then adds, “if you’re tired, we can just spend the evening in bed. No need to go anywhere.” 

Mildred sighs. “I think I’ll take a shower. I’d honestly wanted to go take a walk, but I certainly wouldn’t get very far.” 

“I could always carry you,” Gwendolyn jokes. Mildred smiles. “Sling you over my shoulder.” 

Mildred slides her hands around Gwendolyn’s shoulders, down Gwendolyn’s chest. “You know, I don’t think I have the energy for anything _fun_ tonight,” she starts, and Gwendolyn frowns. She doesn’t want Mildred to feel like she owes her sex, or has to put out. She starts to say just that, but Mildred leans down to whisper in her ear and her voice freezes in her throat. “But I still find it incredibly sexy that you can throw me over your shoulder. Or anywhere else.” 

Her hands slide back and away from Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn swallows thickly. “I, uh.”

“I’ll be in the shower,” Mildred tosses over her shoulder. 

“Well.” Gwendolyn shakes her head and carries her own bowl to the sink, soaks a sponge to start working on the dishes. 

She’s just finished rinsing the dishes when Mildred calls her name, and she moves swiftly across their little home, opening the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?” 

Mildred sticks her head out of the shower, a little pout on her face. “I thought you were joining me.” 

Gwendolyn runs a hand over her face. _Jesus Christ,_ she thinks, _this woman is going to be the end of me._

But she strips down, joins Mildred in the shower. Mostly it seems Mildred wants to cuddle, which is a little difficult when there’s suds everywhere, but the water is warm and Mildred is soft and smelling like _Mildred,_ which Gwendolyn can never quite describe. And it’s much easier to reach Mildred’s back when her front is pressed against Gwendolyn’s. 

The shower seems to perk Mildred up a bit, enough to help Gwendolyn clean herself off, chase each other around their apartment in their towels until Gwendolyn has her pinned on the bed, bodies close and insistent kisses pressed against each other’s lips. She drags her lips down to Mildred’s throat, nibbles softly at her pulse point, kisses around it and follows the tendon nearby down with her lips. Mildred groans. “Does that feel good, darling?” 

“Yes,” Mildred hisses. “Yes, yes—“ she cuts herself off with a slight cough and Gwendolyn stops. “No,” she starts to whine. 

“No,” Gwendolyn repeats, “I’m not pushing you when you’re ill, sweetheart. Nope,” she says again, pushing Mildred back down by the chest as she surges up. “We can come back to this when you feel well.” 

“I feel well enough for that,” Mildred whines. 

Gwendolyn shakes her head, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You told me earlier that you didn’t. Come on, darling, let’s get you dry and warm, and we’ll snuggle up.”

Mildred is still a little grumpy with her by the time they get back into bed. But she wants warmth, and Gwendolyn is warm, so she cuddles up to her under the blankets. “Warm enough?” Gwendolyn asks. 

Mildred hums in an answer, tucked up under Gwendolyn’s chin. They’re quiet for a moment; the sun has really only gone down recently, but going to bed early won’t hurt either of them. Mildred seems to consider speaking for a long moment before she actually does. 

“Is… is this… nevermind,” she decides. 

Gwendolyn pulls back, tilts Mildred’s head up towards her. “No, what’s going on in that brilliant little head?” 

Mildred smiles and blushes. “No, I just… this is nice.”

“This?” Gwendolyn prods gently. 

“You, taking care of me today,” she clarifies. 

“Ah,” Gwendolyn smiles, leans down to drop a kiss to Mildred’s nose. “Now you see how I feel every day.” Mildred shakes her head a bit. “I’m serious, Mildred. You make me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Every single day, you make my life so special.” 

“Stop,” Mildred breathes, sniffling, and Gwendolyn knows it’s more emotions than cold. Gwendolyn does, but she presses little kisses to Mildred’s face instead, trying to convince her through action rather than words. “I do it because I love you,” she says finally, catches Gwendolyn’s face and brings her in for a kiss. 

“And I love you,” Gwendolyn answers. “Let me show you. Just every once in a while, let me show you.” 

Mildred shivers, and Gwendolyn pulls her closer, and she utters the tiniest “okay” Gwendolyn thinks she’s ever heard. 

They fall asleep tangled up in each other, and in the morning, Mildred rises before Gwendolyn; she makes the coffee, grabs the paper, retrieves the laundry from where it hung overnight. And Gwendolyn sleeps through it all. 

Mildred feels a swell of pride and love and tenderness in her chest. 

She climbs back into bed and hopes the coffee doesn’t go completely cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed-- leave a note below, let me know if you have your own requests!


End file.
